


Champions of the Just

by Katuary



Series: Rose and Thorn [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Comfort, Crisis of Faith, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dragon Age: Origins Quest - Broken Circle, F/M, Pre-Relationship, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: "A part of her had hoped to find that certainty again from the templars. They were the Chantry's most faithful, willing to give their lives and deaths to protect both the mages under their charge and the ordinary folk the mages could place in danger.Running from the tower and demanding every mage be killed at the first sign of demons didn't strike her asparticularlyprotective."
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)
Series: Rose and Thorn [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510469
Kudos: 8





	Champions of the Just

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for some pretty frank religious discussion and doubt.

Elissa had always taken comfort in the Chant. It had been ever-present, like an old friend, since she spoke her first word. Mother Mallol had been a kind teacher, and patient. Elissa had a million questions on faith as she grew, and Highever's Mother always took the time to explain. When an answer was uncertain, she told her so. When more research was needed, she helped her find scrolls to pore over and read with her, side by side in Highever's chapel. 

Perhaps it was selfish that Elissa hadn't genuinely questioned the Maker until her family's murder. No...it _was_ selfish. It wasn't as if she hadn't read about atrocities that happened to other families, or known about the everyday hardships of those not so fortunate to be born to a noble house.

Regardless, blessings from Mothers were empty for her ever since her escape from her former home. No warmth. No glow. No reassurance. She'd tried, both in Ostagar and Lothering, and found nothing. That part of her was veiled from contact, perhaps permanently. 

After her failed blessing from the Lothering Mother, one that had come at the dear price of thirty silver to add insult to injury, she had spoken to Ser Bryant. He didn't seem the sort to lie about a rumor of the Right of Annulment. Regardless of how eager Alistair was to visit Redcliffe, they couldn't afford to lose a potential ally from the Warden treaties. The Circle, the dwarves, the Dalish. Not Arl Eamon. If Alistair was going to inexplicably put her in charge, she would lead.

A part of her had hoped to find her lost certainty again with the templars. They were the Chantry's most faithful, willing to give their lives and deaths to protect both the mages under their charge and the ordinary folk the mages could place in danger. 

Running from the tower and demanding every mage be killed at the first sign of demons didn't strike her as _particularly_ protective. 

* * *

It took them days to clear the tower, she was sure. Her stomach snarled as she helped the First Enchanter down the tower stairs, and it took all her resolve to keep her face impassive. Alistair kept sneaking looks at her when he thought she couldn't see. That would have to wait. She had to help an old man down a thousand stairs and deliver him to the people who had refused to protect him, despite their order's reason for existence. 

Couldn't defeat them. An entire tower's worth of templars just _couldn't_ defeat the terrifying abominations, but four people could clear the monsters out on their own. Two Wardens, an archer from the Lothering cloister, and a healer. She had made the right call leaving Sten outside the barricade with the surviving templars; he would have been glad to carry out the Annulment on his own from what she'd heard. Though she supposed cutting tongues could be considered comparable to draining a person's emotions. 

"Irving?" The Knight-Commander opened the barricade to let them through. "Maker's breath, I did not expect to see you alive."

Irving still leaned into Elissa's side as he spoke. "It is over, Greagoir," he said, "Uldred is...dead."

A new voice broke in, insistent and as exhausted as she was, "Uldred tortured those mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many of them have turned." The young man from the cage near the Harrowing Chamber. Gaunt, starved, swaying on his feet in heavy armor. She would have reached out a hand to steady him had she not already been supporting Irving. Thankfully, Leliana was there instead, ready to catch him if he fell. _He made it all this way by himself?_

"What?" Irving interjected, "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Of course he'll say that!" the younger templar protested, "He might be a blood mage! Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again!"

" _I_ am the Knight-Commander here," Greagoir said harshly, "Not you."

Elissa shook her head. She wasn't about to let this turn into more arguments for the Right. She'd seen the tower for herself. She'd checked _every Maker-accursed room_ to be sure. If there was a single abomination remaining after her efforts, she'd feed herself to it willingly. She flared her nostrils briefly before speaking,

"I believe order has been restored to the Circle."

Irving nodded. "We will rebuild. The Circle will go on, and we will learn from this tragedy, and be strengthened by it."

"We have won back the tower," Greagoir agreed, "I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well."

"But they may have demons within them!" the other templar argued, "Lying dormant...lying in wait!" 

Elissa scoffed despite herself, "The demons I've been killing all day didn't seem particularly interested in _hiding._ "

"Enough!" Greagoir barked, "I have already made my decision." He inclined his head to Elissa and her companions. "Thank you. You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle and the templars."

Elissa, however, was in no mood to be gracious. Her tact failed her and she spoke with uncharacteristic bluntness, "I have resolved _your_ duty here, as you said. You owe me."

"I promised you aid," he acknowledged, "but with the Circle restored, my duty is to watch the mages. They are free to help you, however. Speak to them."

She held her temper, mostly, and plastered a tight smile on her face. "And what will the templars do?" _If anything._

"For now, I will have to oversee a sweep of the tower. There may be some survivors and we should do our best to tend to them."

Elissa nodded, "There are two apprentices, a mage, and three children on this floor. Possibly another mage from the store rooms; I sent her to join them once we cleared the second floor." No need to mention that woman had been involved in the attempted coup, certainly. 

She would have been counting on her fingers if she had both hands free. She knew berating the Knight-Commander was ill-advised, but she was operating under extenuating circumstances. No sleep or food for days, shape-shifting in the Fade, walking around children's dead bodies... that was a valid excuse for lack of grace.

"The Tranquil in charge of the store room also survived," she continued, "You'll likely find him trying to clean the mess on the second floor by himself. Also a mage hidden in a wardrobe in the senior enchanters' quarters. I believe there were some mages who may have merely been stunned in the Harrowing Chamber, but you'll have to see for yourself."

Greagoir nodded uneasily without acknowledging her outburst.

"Please, excuse me. And Irving...it is good to have you back." 

"Ah, I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats again in no time." Irving gestured to an area somewhat separated from the agitated templars, removing himself from Elissa's aid to use his staff for support instead. She and Wynne followed. 

"Here we are," Irving began, "the tower in disarray, the Circle nearly annihilated..." He nodded toward Elissa. "Though it could have been much, much worse. I am glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as though the Maker Himself sent you."

She tried not to cringe, giving a brisk nod instead, "I'm glad I could help."

"From what Greagoir said, it seems that you came here seeking allies. The least we can do is help you against the darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight."

A practical attitude, though the attitude of debt was more than unwelcome. Still, she needed something more concrete. Elissa clasped her hands loosely behind her back. "Do I have your word?"

Irving nodded. "You have my word, as First Enchanter. The Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight."

"Thank you, First Enchanter. We will call on you the moment you are needed." She doubted the Knight-Commander would allow her to bring all the harrowed mages to her other destinations with her. She was unsure any of them were allowed to leave the tower under anything but the most dire circumstances.

"Irving," Wynne broke in, "I have a request. I seek leave to follow the Grey Warden."

"Wynne..." Irving said doubtfully, "We need you here. The Circle needs you."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Irving, but the Circle will do fine without me. The Circle has you." She placed a gentle hand on Elissa's shoulder. "This woman is brave and good, and capable of great things. If she will accept my help, I will help her accomplish her goals."

High praise coming from a near-stranger. Flattery aside, they would have better odds with a healer. She had seen her own skin blacken and slough off from a demon's burn, then regenerate with the careful application of Wynne's magic. An injury that severe without a healer immediately present would cripple them, make it impossible to travel fast enough to enforce the remaining treaties. Elissa smiled and bent her head,

"I would be honored to have you join us, Wynne."

Irving sighed. "You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere." Adventure. That was one way of putting it.

Wynne smiled benignly, "Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?"

"Then I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden," Irving agreed reluctantly, "But know that you always have a place here." He returned his attention to Elissa. "There is much to be done here, and I must go. You must forgive me for not being a proper host."

"I understand," Elissa said, "Till we meet again."

"When the time comes, we will stand beside you."

* * *

"Are you...all right?"

Alistair joined her on the fallen log where she'd been keeping watch. Camp felt suspiciously quiet after a long stint killing demons. Elissa squeezed her knees and jerked her head to the side. 

"I'm fine," she said shortly. Alistair's lip quirked.

"Would it be rude to say you don't _look_ particularly fine?" Coming from someone else, perhaps it would be. Coming from Alistair? He was only concerned. Elissa blew a long breath through her nose and rubbed her palm over her forehead. 

"No, you're right. I'll _be_ all right though. Don't worry."

"See, now that makes me think I should worry _more._ " 

She huffed at his comment, but couldn't bring herself to laugh. She saw him fiddle with his gloves out of the corner of her eye until he tried again.

”I...” He rubbed the back of his neck when she turned her attention to him, “I just wanted to say I’m here. If you want to talk about it, that is.” He laughed uncomfortably, “Maker knows you’ve done that for me.”

Elissa would have to have another chat with Morrigan about characterizing Alistair’s mourning as _whining_. Her friend had less tact than a mabari in an Orlesian ballroom. Before she had a chance to respond, though, he broke the silence again.

"Well, at any rate, we got the mages. I hate to say that was easier than I thought it would be, what with the demons and the weird...Fade...stuff, but..." He chuckled. "Frankly, I think you scared them."

She snorted. " _Scared_ them?"

"Oh, definitely. I think the Knight-Commander expected you to rip his head off with your bare hands. Or burn a hole in his head with you glaring at him like that. Honestly wouldn’t have surprised me much. That would _not_ have been the weirdest thing I’ve seen you do today.” 

“You think _watching_ me shape shift is weird?”

”Come on. You enjoyed punching that sloth demon as a golem. Admit it.”

She smirked. “Setting it on fire was better. No...the part where I froze it, _then_ set it on fire.”

He chuckled and shook his head. "You know, I'm not sure I've ever seen you _that_ angry."

”At the demon?”

”At the Knight-Commander.”

Because she usually did a better job hiding it. This had thrown her off guard. She scuffed the dirt with the heel of her boot and twisted her mouth. 

"I don't much care for people who abandon their promises the moment a challenge arises," she said dryly. She shrugged and laughed quietly. "So much for not saying anything."

Alistair grinned. "Hey, you know me. Master of stealth."

She raised an eyebrow. "You just operate better than I do under sleep deprivation."

"So you're saying you're impressed?"

"Oh, obviously." She snorted. "You can do all the sneaking and lock picking from now on, as I'm clearly outmatched. I'll just bash everything with a shield and shout."

"Hey now, the bashing is harder than it looks!"

"I'll bet."

Her smile faded as the distraction wore off. He nudged her knee softly with his to regain her attention.

"So..." he started, "I take it you're not exactly a fan of the templars?"

She shrugged and glared at the dirt. "No," she ground out, "I'm not." Her fists clenched, short nails biting crescents into her palms. "Protecting that tower was their duty. They left dozens to die because doing their duty looked _too hard._ " She turned fully toward Alistair with a scowl. "You told me it was a mistake not to think of them as an army. Apparently that only counts until they're needed for something more than patrols. Greagoir was too afraid to take on the tower with his remaining men? We cleared that entire tower with _four people._ Top to bottom."

"Well," he said, "To be fair, we did have Wynne. I'm willing to bet you, me, and Leliana would be short a few limbs without her tagging along."

"Because Wynne wouldn't have helped the templars secure the tower?" she countered, "That is, _assuming_ they weren't there to just wholesale kill everyone." She flippantly threw a hand in the air. "Obviously makes more sense. What am I thinking?" She gnashed her teeth together and cut herself off with some effort. "I'm sorry," she grit out, "I shouldn't...I don't need to say anything." _Stay calm and don't lose your leverage, darling._

"What?" Alistair seemed genuinely taken aback, "Isn't this talking? I think I volunteered for that."

"That doesn't mean I should be yelling at you."

"You're...not? Pretty sure this is directed at templars, unless I didn't hear right."

Elissa let out a short laugh. "Obviously with present company excluded."

"Exactly." He smiled and rested his cheek on his hand. "So carry on."

Well. If he insisted. 

She leaned back on her hands and looked skyward. "I talked to the apprentice girl Wynne was protecting. Keili." The girl was younger than them by a few years. Fifteen or sixteen. She'd pulled chunks of her own hair out and scratched the backs of her hands raw by the time Elissa's party had arrived. "She kept rambling, saying they should just _let_ the templars come and kill them. That it was the only way for a mage to return to the Maker." Her eyes closed. " _Why_ everything must come back to that, I have no idea. The Chantry I grew up with would never have stood for that teaching."

"Hm. So you're telling me you _didn't_ grow up memorizing Transfigurations until your eyes tried to pop out of your head?"

"I'm telling you certain soldiers of the Chantry could do with a lot more 'all men are the Work of our Maker's Hands' and a lot less 'they shall be named Maleficar'." She scoffed. "And if raising a child to believe she is doomed in the eyes of the Maker isn't 'bringing harm without provocation to the least of His children', then I'll be damned if I know what is." 

She was silent a bare second before she growled and continued, "And the _lyrium._ The Chantry purposely addicts its faithful to a substance only _they_ control? Why? So they can't leave if they so choose? And..." Her eyes widened in horror and her gaze tore to Alistair's face. "Maker's breath, they didn't do that to _you_ , did they?"

"Thankfully, no." He shrugged off her concern with an easy smile. "You only start receiving lyrium after you've taken your vows. Got lucky."

Stupid of her to ask. She would have seen symptoms by now if he needed lyrium. One less matter to worry on.

"They left their own in there too," she went on. Her mouth curled in a grimace. "I shouldn't have been so harsh with him around. The one the demons must have been..." She rubbed her hands over her face. "I don't even want to know. What we dealt with was bad enough, and the demons were actually trying to keep us _happy."_

The demon had done a piss-poor job of that with her. She still couldn't understand why she'd been shown Weisshaupt and Duncan. Had it instead given her an intact Highever, her family alive and well, she wasn't convinced she would have broken the dream on her own. A selfish part of her wished that _had_ been her dream. That small piece would risk pointless death just for the illusion of her family.

She hadn’t dreamt of them since she'd taken her Joining; every night was a new nightmare from the Archdemon instead. Even that was an improvement over seeing her nephew's broken body tossed in the center of the room like a discarded rag doll. 

A tentative hand on her shoulder startled her. It was removed the moment she cast a confused glance at it. 

"You don't need to say anything else if it's..." Alistair hesitated and winced, "...making things worse. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset...?" _Oh_. Her voice was choked with unshed tears, barely held at bay. Stupid. Dangerous. And the look of heartrending concern he gave her was all it took to break.

”No no no, it’s all right!” He opened his arms uncertainly. “Come here? It’s all right...”

In for a copper, in for a sovereign. He’d already seen her at her worst, she may as well take the simple comfort he offered. She nodded and allowed him to draw her into his arms.

And Maker, the moment he held her it didn’t _matter_ that it wasn’t a smart choice. His arms were warm, solid, and protective around her. Her own arms were pinned between their chests, but she didn’t feel the least bit restricted. He rocked slowly and hummed something she distantly recognized as she released choked sobs into his shoulder. 

She knew she should at least offer further explanation, but how could Alistair possibly understand how she felt? The Wardens had been adults. Soldiers. Betrayed, but not unprepared for death in battle.

Oren had been _seven years old_. 

Her brother's family had been murdered while she slept blissfully unaware in Iona's warm embrace. The little boy she'd held minutes after his birth. The woman her brother loved. Throats cut and bodies lying broken on the floor.

An innocent woman killed instantly by an arrow meant for Elissa, simply because she'd opened the chamber door first. There was now a child waiting in the Denerim alienage with no clue Elissa had made her an orphan.

Her _parents._ She knew she could never have saved her father, even had she been a mage herself with the talent of twenty men, but her mother...she could have insisted on bringing her. Refused to leave unless she did. 

But nothing she did would change that now. They were all lost already, unless a miracle protected Fergus at Ostagar. All that remained was to continue moving forward. Regain the allies they needed to end the Blight. 

Alistair stopped humming as she calmed, running a soothing hand between her shoulder blades. 

"Better?" he asked.

"Mhm." Elissa was in no hurry to disentangle herself, but the blush in his cheeks convinced her otherwise. She moved back, close enough that their legs still brushed. "You're good at that."

"Found a new use for me, have you?"

"Well, you have to be good for _something_ more than bad news and witty one-liners."

He snorted and grinned. "Right. Fear me, darkspawn! If I drop my weapon, I'll simply go and _hug you to death!"_

She sputtered a laugh. "You're _ridiculous_."

"Ouch!"

" _Good_ ridiculous," she amended, rolling her eyes and nudging him. "Thank you. Truly. This was exactly what I needed."

"Well..." He cleared his throat and blushed again. "Happy to be of service."

She smiled at him again and rose from her seat. "We should both rest. Redcliffe's next. So long as there aren't any further earth-shattering revelations, it can't possibly be more difficult than the Circle."

Alistair coughed and rubbed the back of his arm. "Yes, well, I..."

What in the world did he have to feel guilty about? She crinkled her brows and smirked. "Goodnight, Alistair."

"Goodnight, Elissa."

**Author's Note:**

> Three guesses who Elissa gets along with just _swimmingly_ in Awakening. First two don't count.
> 
> My Warden, like Alistair, is 20/21 during the events of DAO, so there’s a weird sense of “he/she is just a kid!!” going on whenever she sees something happen to a younger person, even when that character is only a couple years younger. Like when you're a freshman in college and everyone in high school is suddenly "kid" because you're _so grown up_ now. Been. There. 
> 
> Oh boy, just occurred to me that Leliana is well aware of what happened to Cullen in Kinloch during Inquisition if she’s on this mission...or at least knows enough to hazard a guess. Holy _shit,_ he’d hate that.


End file.
